


Ride the Drafts in Empty Bedrooms

by el_em_en_oh_pee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-12
Updated: 2009-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-16 21:38:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_em_en_oh_pee/pseuds/el_em_en_oh_pee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus is well aware that some of his housemates tend to turn to the liquid comfort of Firewhisky and gin after being so totally rejected; it is now his turn to turn to the sweet assurances of liquid luck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ride the Drafts in Empty Bedrooms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irenacandy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=irenacandy).



> Title taken from The Indelicates' "The Sequel to Peter Pan & Wendy." [](http://irenacandy.livejournal.com/profile)[**irenacandy**](http://irenacandy.livejournal.com/), I really hope you enjoy this! Happy holidays :) ♥.

"Take it," Severus gasps, feeling the life leeching from him as his blood and memories spill out of him and swirl together, flowing along the dirty floor. "Take it." The blood flows thickly, quickening as he fists his sticky hand in Potter's robes. His one hope is that he isn't hallucinating, that stupid Harry Potter really is crouching over him not one minute after the Dark Lord has left the room. "Look at me," he demands, as he (thinks he) hears Potter scrabbling about for a container of any kind. His important memories are growing dimmer and he can hardly even remember Lily's red red hair – all the soft touches left in the very back of his memory are Narcissa's – but suddenly Lily's green eyes are above him and staring down at him and he is ready to go to her, whether his memories have been saved or not.

Severus lets go.

+++

"Promise you'll always protect my son," Narcissa says, her voice low and languid. She and Severus are curled up around each others' naked bodies, and her perfectly-applied mouth is hovering over his right nipple. Outside their bubble of semi-contentment, their world rages, and time rushes madly forward, but here, they are taking time to breathe. Severus knows well enough that the Dark Lord is inches away from regaining power (all portents point to this) and that soon he will be thrust completely back into the political cesspool that Dumbledore demands he navigate, but this knowledge is hazy and, momentarily, feels so far away.

"Protect Draco?"

"Yes," she says, leaning down and lightly, carefully tugging his nipple up between her teeth. She keeps her lips away – she always avoids smudging her lipstick – but her tongue swipes down over the caught tip before she releases it, pushing herself half-up. "He's just a boy, Severus, and not yet ready for the weight of the world that will doubtless be thrust upon him."

Honestly, Severus doesn't find Narcissa pretty. She's classically beautiful, of course, or would be if she thought to smile, but she's really only his type when she's naked and her thumb is running light, extremely teasing circles around the tip of his cock, like - _oh!_ \- like so. Or – maybe that's unfair of him, maybe – Severus is finding it hard to think, though, with Narcissa's fingers slowly starting to play over his hardening shaft with quick, tantalising touches. Her hands are so smooth, a welcome change from his own frequent bouts with his potions-stained and –scarred right hand, and she always – oh _Merlin_ , she always knows when to shift from teasing him harder to gripping his cock firmly and moving her hand in sure, strong strokes, her thumb slipping occasionally over the head and her other hand coming down to fondle his balls – gently does it! – and every so often, her hand _twists_ in a way that is partly slipping on his precome and partly wicked intent, and she knows his body so, so well. He stares down at her hand, the pale skin that is even paler in thick bands around her fingers where she removed her heavy rings twenty minutes before contrasting sharply with the dusky red of his weeping cock. He's close, so close, almost there close, can feel his balls tightening as Narcissa's hand caresses them gently close, and when she shifts slightly so that her breasts are hanging heavy against his chest, he comes, moaning: "Yes, yes, I'll protect Draco, oh Merlin, _yes_."

+++

It is halfway through fifth year when Severus Snape first manages to successfully brew Felix Felicis. He stares at the leaping golden liquid for a full hour, shielding a self-satisfied smirk from the dust motes floating about in the long-abandoned storage room he's been using to try his hand at novel potions and spells, before carefully bottling it and hiding it. He can't imagine ever depending on liquid luck – it's too dangerous a situation – but there's no telling when it might possibly come in handy, so he keeps it safe and in the back of his mind for months.

Severus doesn't think to use it, even though his life isn't exactly what he'd call lucky, until a warm day just after OWL exams ignites his fallout with Lily. "Mudblood," he hisses, spurred on by the students around him and by his indignation and embarrassment and desire to hurt James Potter, and just like that, almost ten years of friendship with Lily Evans come to an abrupt, screeching halt.

After she (deservedly, he admits) yells at him, after he is forced out of the orbit around her he has happily established throughout all their years of friendship and unrequited love, he remembers Felix. Severus is well aware that some of his housemates tend to turn to the liquid comfort of Firewhisky and gin after being so totally rejected; it is now his turn to turn to the sweet assurances of liquid luck.

He stumbles to his storage space, still reeling from his argument with Lily, and falls inside, against the rough stone wall, as soon as he manages to force the door open. As he tries to push himself up enough to pull the door to behind him, he realises belatedly that he's sobbing violently. It takes him five minutes to pull himself together well enough to barricade himself inside and remember the revealing spells he needs to use in order to get to the Felix Felicis. When he has it in hand, he stares at it for almost another five minutes before cracking open the wax seal, wondering bitterly as he does so whether this potion has the power to do the impossible – the power to gentle Lily's anger at him.

He doesn't even bother measuring out an appropriate amount of the potion. He just knocks back one gulp, and then another, and is about to take a third but his stomach is roiling so he stops, worried that he's about to be sick, and re-seals and re-hides the bottle. In the time it takes to do so, his stomach settles out, and warmth spreads through him, and he reaches up to touch his face because it feels oddly stiff. As it turns out, this is due to an unintentional spreading smile, and when moves his hands away, they come away dry.

Severus stands straighter than he probably has in his entire life, and he strides out of the storage room with something a lot like false purpose. He is halfway down the corridor, about to turn to go down the stairs to the dungeons, when he hears someone muttering through a door that has been left ajar across the way. Buoyed by an intense sense of goodwill from the potion, he walks right in.

Narcissa Black is sitting primly on a rough wooden chair in this – it's more of a nook than a proper room – her impeccable posture belied by the way she is furiously casting hexes at small pillow set in front of her.

+++

Bellatrix knows.

This is the one thought running through Severus's head the entire time she and Narcissa are in his house, asking him to take care of Draco again: Bellatrix knows about them. He doesn't have any confirmation for this fact, but he can feel with ever-increasing conviction that he's right about this. There are others at Hogwarts who could be bought into the position Narcissa is asking Severus to take. Bellatrix definitely _doesn't_ know that Severus already promised Dumbledore that he would help as much as he is able, and Bellatrix only understands a very few of the sorts of loyalty that don't occur directly between the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. Her knowledge of their sex is written on her face when he acquiesces, when he takes Narcissa's hand in his own, when his pledge is cemented. As the spell-threads of the Unbreakable Vow settle over their joined hands, though – despite the fact that Bellatrix is there and watching him like an (astonished) hawk, he can't help but flash back to other times Narcissa's requested his help in protecting Draco, more informally.

+++

Narcissa's mouth is open, gasping, and Severus would want to kiss her if it weren't for the boundaries that would be crossing, the infidelity that would signify. So instead, he just stares at her lips as he moves his fingers in fast circles over her clit, pausing to pinch it until her legs quake and her hips jerk. She pushes her legs together when she's ready for him to move his hand away, and he moves over her, staring down for a minute as she readjusts herself, too, before guiding her hand to his cock so that she can rub it over her slick wetness and slowly, oh – oh! – so tantalisingly massaging it with the pads of her fingers, before guiding it inside her. He moans, feeling her hot tightness envelope his cock as he slides deeper in, and it takes everything he has to keep from crying out and rutting frantically against her, but he waits until she moves her legs up around his waist and pulls him deeper before allowing himself to let go, to move against her and in her, forcing a hand between their straining bodies and rubbing his thumb against her clit to supplement the rhythm he's establishing with his hips. She shifts against him, legs slipping slightly, the stilettos on her shoes scratching against the back of his legs, and he pulls his hand away to help hoist them back up, moving harder has he does so. Suddenly, she's tightening muscles around him – he can _feel_ it in his very core – and moving her legs a little so that he can thrust deeper. A low, deep moan is drawn from him as she moves her hands up and down his back, now smoothing over his skin, now scratching, now rounding over his bum. He manoeuvres the pair of them, tipping them both to the side mid-thrust and rolling onto his back and suddenly she is straddling him, the hazy light from the dirty lamp by the bed gilding the outline of her breasts, the sharp heels of her shoes digging holes into the cheap hotel mattress. He reaches up, running his roughened fingers (roughened from years of encounters with hot splattering potions and caustic cauldron cleaners) over the curve of her belly to the swelling of her breasts, watching hungrily as she shivers when his calluses catch her skin, and moves his hands up to cup them over the tips of her breasts, feeling the hardness of her nipples in the palms of his hands. He runs his fingers roughly towards her nipples, then pinches, carefully, before just moving his thumbs over them, massaging them like he massages her clit. She responds by rising up higher, sinking down lower, twisting her hips as she moves feverishly up and down, sending amazing shivers of sensation down his legs and up his stomach. Severus can sense his orgasm building, and moves one of his thumbs from her nipple down her front, around her belly button, and back onto her clit. He wants Narcissa to come first.

He moves his thumb in fast, concentric circles around her clit, carefully watching her face until she gasps, hips moving towards his thumb out of the rhythm they've established. Maintaining that pressure and that pattern of motion, he tries to match her new, erratic motions with his own. Another two minutes and she's gasping out: "Merlin, oh _Merlin_ , oh _Severus_ , there, please there, I'm so close." He bites his lips hard, moving his hand until she gasps and shudders and he can see, hear, _feel_ her orgasm. And that's enough to set him off – one more thrust and he's coming _hard_ and he is so, so utterly spent that he can't even reach down to help Narcissa off of him.

+++

At first, Severus is startled to see Narcissa Black - the poised Narcissa Black, the Narcissa Black with the immaculate presentation and the aloof manner - so angry and unruffled, but then the potion coursing through his body takes hold of him and he strides up to her, all loose and swinging. Idly, drawling, he says, "Black."

She whirls and for a second Severus thinks that she might hex him, too - but no, Felix wouldn't allow that, not at all. He looks, interestedly, upon her very red face and her knuckles, white from clenching her wand far too hard. "Snape," she says, stiffly, after looking on at him for several long moments.

Generally speaking, Severus would be intimidated by the older girl, would be worried that she'd hold herself and her (admittedly higher) position in the school's (and their world's) social ranks above him. But now, worry doesn't plague him, for he is lucky and the world is at his feet. "Having a good night?"

Narcissa glares at him, knuckles tightening around her wand before she relaxes slightly, straightens her shoulders. "As good as you are," she says, suddenly smug. "I hear that the Mudblood you're in love with, what's her name, Evans? I hear that she hates you now."

So this is how the great Narcissa Black operates: cutting comments and gossip. And her comment did cut - Severus is recoiling inwardly - but two can play at that game. "I hear that Malfoy was caught canoodling with that Zabini woman," he says, evenly. He's not sure where mentioning Malfoy and Zabini comes from. It's true that they've been caught in a certain state of undress together, but there's never been anything to indicate that Narcissa Black might be interested in Lucius Malfoy.

However - maybe there is something in Severus's comment, because Narcissa is suddenly collapsing in upon herself. "How did you know that I-" she asks, as the colour drains from her face.

"I didn't, until now," Severus tells her, smiling almost cheekily, but when she crumples even more, he hastens to her side. "Does he know?"

Narcissa gives him a Look, like 'do you honestly think that I'd tell _you_ the details of my personal life,' but her head nods a slight 'yes' even as she glares at him.

"Lily - Evans - it's pretty obvious that I love her, huh," Severus says, because he feels that it is the correct thing to say. "So I'm pretty sure that she knows. You know, about me."

"Lucius - I'm just convenient to him," Narcissa whispers. So apparently sharing private information means that other people will share private information back with you now. "I'm cultured and pureblood and so interested in him that he knows he can get away with murder and I'll overlook it." She sounds almost bitter. "I've half an expectation that he'll marry me just for that, just because I won't cause scandal and leave him if he continues to sleep around."

"Looks like we're both in a bit of an unrequited affair," Severus says, and oh, that can probably be taken _so_ many different ways.

"Yeah, but that Mudblood would never even consider being with you," Narcissa says, venom back in her voice (Severus guesses that she doesn't generally like people to see her with her defences down). "So not at all, actually."

And it hurts, it really hurts when she puts it that way, but Severus is developing an inkling of a notion - he is, after all, a teenage boy, and he does have urges. "And Malfoy would never consider being your friend," he says, forcing a smile. "So at least I have that with Evans."

"Had," Narcissa says, and Severus wonders briefly whether she overheard his conversation with Lily earlier. "Had a friend in Evans."

Severus gives her a hard look. "I could use another friend," he says, offhandedly.

Narcissa looks back at him, inscrutable. "And you want me to be your friend?"

"I didn't say that," Severus says, easily, the Felix in his body loosening his tongue. "Though it might be nice, to commiserate with someone in a similar situation."

"Might be," Narcissa says, her inscrutable expression slowly shifting into one much more calculating in nature. "Intriguing."

Something golden and leaping inside Severus tells him that he's been successful in - whatever it is that he's been trying to accomplish. "Is it," he says, quietly, walking carefully closer to her.

"It is," she says, suddenly decisively, and she reaches forward and grasps his hand and pulls him, surprised, down into a full kiss – their first, and their last.

+++

"Why have you trusted me with protecting Draco for so long?" Severus asks Narcissa, when they've had a moment alone apart from everyone else who is milling around and preparing to fight. She's cast a charm to make others hear their conversation as a discussion of his recent escape from Hogwarts.

"You love him as your own son," Narcissa tells him, and that's true enough - Draco is the closest Severus will ever get to being a father. Her voice lowers, and he can feel the charm she cast grow even stronger "And while I don't doubt your dedication to our Dark Lord, he _is_ the man who killed the love of your life, and I trust that the well-being of someone you love will take precedence over that of anyone else, including, if need be, the man who did that."

"Narcissa," Severus says, lowering his voice (someone is drawing nearer to them). "One of us might die tonight, and I just want to say-"

She holds a hand up, stopping him before he can explain that he's grateful for everything they've done and been in the past twenty-some years. "Don't," she tells him, a hint of a smile playing around her lips. "Don't talk like that. I'll see you after our victory and you may tell me then."

And before he can ask which victory she is referring to - the triumph of the Dark Lord or just the survival of Draco - she has turned and left, gone to Lucius's side, and the Dark Lord is beckoning Severus to his own.  



End file.
